


the break of dawn

by lilacsandlostlovers



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Canon Character of Color, Canon LGBTQ Character, Canon Queer Character of Color, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Interracial Relationship, M/M, Pokemon GO - Freeform, Post-Episode: s02e03 Family of Rogues, caitlin gets MAD and lisa's super into it, just talk about your feelings goddammit, my first fic in this fandom, tropes! tropes everywhere!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 18:29:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7903150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacsandlostlovers/pseuds/lilacsandlostlovers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>because some people are worth melting for.</i><br/><br/>ft. pancakes, too many puns to shake a cold gun at, an elsa™ blanket and a grumpy mick rory?<br/><br/>written for the coldflash big bang 2016.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the break of dawn

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to my pal, ireland™, for putting up with my ridiculous 3 am messages about cisco ramon and his thighs. ya’ll are my fave ;^) may the speed force be with you ily forever peaches
> 
>  
> 
> i'll be honest i wrote this because i want wentworth miller to cover carly rae jepsen
> 
>  
> 
> anyhoo……brace yourself for:  
> \- lisa snart being treated like the perfection she is  
> \- cisco ramon is trans and fuck anyone who says otherwise!!!!  
> \- caitlin being very angry and very cute?? i don’t even like her how the hell did this happen  
> \- there’s only a lil bit of iris in this because i cannot do her justice at all because she is AMAZING and deserves the world and i am not WORTHY of writing a goddess as perfect as iris west  
> \- mick rory just wanting to go home and drink, like, 8 beers  
> \- leonard snart is a mess. im love

“Iris, I will not hesitate to fight you for that Snorlax.”

“You’re being stalked by a meta and you’re yelling at me over _Pokémon Go_ , Barry? Really?” Iris mused one morning.

Barry blanched at the reminder of his fate and swiped at his phone. Touch-screen still didn’t work, dammit.

“Yeah, well, here’s hoping S.T.A.R. Labs came up a good solution.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m moving in with _who?_ ” Barry balked. 

Caitlin looked like she was about to hit him with her big-ass purse when she enunciated, “You’re moving in with Snart.” Honestly, Barry, she hated repeating herself.

Cisco cackled and asked, “Uh, which one?” 

The brunette glared at him, eyes sharper than an iceberg.

“Leonard.”

“His arch-nemesis, Leonard?”

“Yes.” Caitlin’s distaste for redundancy made the unspoken _you’re both dead to me_  very prominent.

 

* * *

 

Cisco clasped his hands together and said in an overly exaggerated deep voice, “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here today.”

“Actually, we broke in,” Lisa chimed in with a friendly wave and, after being glared at for a few seconds, clarified while shrugging.

“You guys have a Pokémon gym,” Lisa continued, like that explained everything.

It kind of did.

“We can’t be held accountable for our actions.” 

Cold snorted in the back of his throat at his sister’s antics before snapping back.

“Cut the shit, Cisco. Why are we here?” he drawled, examining his cold gun. 

The scientist shot him an annoyed look and continued, “Depends, are any of your other Rogues gonna say something ridiculous, Captain Cold?”

“You’re the one with the puns,” the other man shrugged and gestured for him to carry on before tacking on a “probably.”

Heatwave was in the back of the room and could be heard muttering, “Rude,” under his breath.

“Anyway, you and the Flash need to move in together to save the world. There’s a creepy meta stalking him and, given that you’re not evil anymore and just a dick, you best qualify to be his new roommate. The meta’s been casing him, knows where he spends his time, and we’re trying to throw them for a loop.” 

Cold looked startled before coming out of his stupor.

“I’m not moving into his tiny shoebox.”

“Of course not,” Lisa smiled like a cat that caught the canary. “Barry—”

Everyone in the room froze. Figuratively, of course, Snart’s gun was still holstered on his belt.

The Flash jerked and started making some weird vibration noise in the back of his throat, attempting damage control.

“Uh, who’s Barry? I’ve never met a Barry in my life—”

Heatwave cut him off with a wave of his hand. “It’s the worst kept secret in Central City, Red. We’re not that dumb.”

The Flash pouted comically before speeding off to change into the spare civilian-wear they kept at the lab.

When he got back, Caitlin looked shocked and hissed, “Barry, no—”

The kid just shrugged and said, “Well, they already know who I am, and the suit’s getting uncomfortable.” Cisco looked puzzled at that, but he let it slide in the wake of the standoff occurring in the room at that moment.

Meanwhile, Lisa was looking at Barry like her entire world made sense again.

“Mhm,” she said in the back of her throat, only barely sneaking a glance at her older brother. 

Yes, the older brother who was slowly becoming more and more discombobulated the longer the Flash stood there in sweats.

Mick looked as shocked as the gruff man could, and sputtered out, “Jesus, Snart, you didn’t tell us he was a teenage twink.”

“Cisco. The plan. _Please_.” Barry requested plaintively.

Cisco gave him a once-over, mentally agreeing with Heatwave, and he repeated, “You and Captain Cold are moving in together until this blows over and we can capture the meta.”

Cold looked… almost upset at the latter half of the statement.

“Capture?” He asked, voice slowly cooling, which was not the part anyone expected him to disagree with.

Cisco looked down at the floor and Caitlin suddenly had to do something in another room, which left Barry to explain.

“We have these,” he winced, “cells downstairs where we keep the metas we want to rehabilitate.”

Cold’s face didn’t change but his posture softened slightly as Barry spoke, and he turned from facing Cisco to say, “Torture, Scarlet? Who’s shitty idea was this?”

Cisco and Barry exchanged looks and Cisco was, apparently, decided to be the one to break the news.

“Long story super short, a megalomaniac from the future who was pretending to be Harrison Wells.”

Lisa’s perfectly manicured finger tapped her bottom lip, the blood-red stain not even budging, before stating, “You’re going to explain later.” Cisco nodded half-heartedly, not wanting to relive that clusterfuck.

“But if this is the plan you came up with, sure, we’ll listen to you guys.” The younger Snart shrugged between her sentences. “I needed to get out of Central anyway, so, _really_ , Lenny, take my safe-house.”

Mick threw his hands up and rumbled, “Badge in the room, dumbasses.”

Cold shot her a look, the kind perfected by older siblings and replied, “Hothead’s got a point; don’t give away all our secrets, Lise.” Also, he really did not want to move in with his longtime crush for a multitude of reasons, goddammit, Lisa. 

He added on, “I paid for the house, trainwreck.”

“I’m pretty sure you didn’t actually pay for it,” Cisco ran a hand through his luscious hair as he muttered under his breath.

“Anyway,” the older man shot Cisco a glare and continued, “Always a pleasure, it’s been chill,” Cold drawled. “But this plan is terrible and I’m out.”

At that moment, Caitlin reentered the room, full of so. Much. Rage.

She stood between him and the door, her arms crossed and her expression screamed _do not fuck with me._

“You— you are going to stay as long as we need, _dickhead_.”

Both Cisco and Lisa exchanged impressed looks at how long it took the brunette to lose her patience with Cold. What, a whole half hour? That was a record, probably.

Caitlin jabbed a finger towards Cold’s chest, not quite touching him, and Lisa shifted, unsure whether to restrain the really cute angry girl or her brother.

“You’re Barry’s best hope, do you get that? He needs you, and… we need you.”

“That supposed to mean something to me?” Cold drawled. 

Caitlin pursed her lips and clenched her jaw. “You owe him for the Ferris Air disaster, Cold. It’s high time we call in that IOU.”

Cold knew, in his heart of hearts, that he’d say yes to anything Barry needed, even if he _didn’t_ need to get an angry scientist out of his hair.

“Whatever,” he agreed ungraciously, and every Rogue in the room knew Cold’s reluctance was complete bullshit.

“Good,” Caitlin snarled, and her glare could cut through gold.

(Lisa mentally noted that she had never been more attracted to someone than in that instant.)

 

* * *

  

“So,” started Lisa. “What’s your deal, Snow?” she drawled coquettishly slinking towards the other woman.

Caitlin’s face was indiscernible, and she briskly walked towards her station, not even acknowledging the younger Snart.

You know, beyond a _tiny_ once-over. Minuscule, really; nothing to write home about.

“Oh, it’s like that?” Lisa flipped her hair. “So you’re either homophobic or uptight? Nice to know.”

Caitlin stopped dead in her tracks.

"You can't call me uptight," the doctor crossed her arms over her chest, remembering a conversation from long ago, her face exasperated beyond measure, and Cisco groaned distantly in the background, claiming that _that wasn’t supposed to be the part you questioned, for fuck’s sake, Caitlin._

Caitlin glared at Cisco and reiterated, “I’m definitely not homophobic and you cannot call me uptight.

"Hmm," Lisa murmured and pretended to think carefully for a moment. before sliding a gold plated business card into the brunette’s hand.

"In that case, you can call me whatever and whenever you like, doc."

Mick groaned into his palm and Cold rolled his eyes, unimpressed.

Cisco snorted at that until Caitlin sent him a glare so cold, Barry’s eyes sped to her lips, checking that she hadn’t gone all Killer Frost™ on them.

(Lisa still low-fived her friend on her way out. Caitlin continues to deny she checked out Lisa’s ass, even to this day. )

 

* * *

 

Snart wasn’t completely sure the other man was even okay with this plan, and decided to check in on him.

Really, Barry, it’s not like sneaking into your house was the worst thing Cold’s ever done.

“Wasn’t your plan, was it?” 

Barry nearly vibrated through the floor when he realized someone else was in the room.

“Jesus.”

“Actually, I’m Len, but that works.”

The speedster stifled a snort before realizing who he was talking to, trying to steady himself after the sudden appearance of the other man.

“Uh,” Barry said coherently before shaking his head like a dog trying to get water out of its ears.

“No, not my plan.” Not that he was complaining. It wasn’t really a hardship to move in with a criminally attractive felon.

Snart felt his face heat up and Barry panicked.

“I totally said that out loud.”

Snart nodded and smiled, “Nice pun involving my jobs, by the way.”

“Get out, asshole,” Barry said, a thread of humor interlaced with his words.

Len waved before ducking out and said, “See you at home, Scarlet!”

_“Criminally attractive_ ,” Snart muttered under his breath, still chuckling.

Luckily, no one else was home to see Barry blush darker than his moniker.

 

* * *

 

Later that week, at the safe-house, Snart jumped a little, lost in his thoughts, when he felt a light tap on his shoulder.

Thank fuck, it was just Barry. 

But let’s be honest: he had never been “Just Barry” to Len. Not since their accidental date at Saints and Sinners.

The older man turned to the speedster, toothbrush in his mouth, and asked, “Bluh?”

Barry tried (and failed) to hide a smile that would’ve lit up all of Central City.

_Cliche, yes, but so damn true,_ Snart thought to himself.

The younger man was babbling about who-knows-what and, as Snart was just taking in the scene (Barry Allen shirtless in his bathroom, talking expressively and with his lovely hands, eyes lit up and a blush that went far down when he saw Snart looking at him like that), Barry asked, “So where’s the spare room?”

The older man ran a hand through his not-so-buzzed-anymore hair and went through the blueprints in his mind before swishing some mouthwash and spitting it out. 

“I… don’t have one?” He said, half a question and half apologetic.

Leonard Snart, apologetic— who knew this day would come? (What would Lewis have thought?) 

Barry raised his eyebrows and Snart rushed to explain, which was a rare feat on its own, and said, “Not here, anyway. Because it’s my sister’s.” Snart rolled his eyes, remembering all the times his sister cajoled him to go out drinking with her, to pick someone up. Lucky for Lisa, she’d never needed a spare room.

The speedster nodded and gnawed at his lip as he thought (and _holy fuck_ was it one of the sexiest things Len had ever witnessed) and eventually Barry offered, “If it’s too much trouble, I can just sleep on the couch or something?”

“No,” Snart blurted out and then mentally kicked himself. “I mean,” he tried to recover, “there’s no way that can be good for your back, and I need Central City’s finest to be in top shape when I kick your ass.”

_Please stay,’_ was the unsaid request hanging in the air, and Barry knew it too.

Barry’s eyes softened a little bit as he smiled and replied quietly, “Yeah, okay. I’m a terrible blanket hog,” he added as a second thought. “You still down with this?” 

Snart was also fond of bundling himself up in blankets until he couldn’t see the outside world. It provided some sort of protection, he tended to think, and isn’t that the most important thing to any thief? He’d never in a million years share a blanket with anyone.

“Yeah, Barr, that’s… _cool_ with me.”

The other man groaned half-heartedly at the pun, and Len chuckled under his breath, a quiet and calming sound, before going to grab his stuff for bed.

Right before Barry crept into bed about a half hour later, he took a double-take.

“Is… is that an Elsa blanket?”

Len groaned, nearly asleep.

“Gift from Lisa. Get in.”

Both of them swear they’d never gotten a better night’s sleep.

 

* * *

 

The two had been living together for weeks, and Barry cursed in his head as he took in the scene before him.

The kitchen was a slightly disorganized and flour-coated mess, topped off with puddles of lactose free milk. In the middle of it all was nefarious super villain, Captain Cold, with smudges of batter on his face that Barry just wanted to lick off. The radio was playing on the counter, some catchy and inoffensive pop tune blaring the same chorus over and over again with Len singing along.

_I really, really, really like you_ indeed.

Frankly, it should be _illegal_ for anyone to look that sexy while wearing a Frozen™ adult apron (another gift from his sister, Snart insisted, silently cursing Lisa for leaving him “gifts” in all sorts of nooks and crannies around the house).

 Good thing Len was a professional thief.

The older man’s hair was slowly growing out and stuck up in every direction, with only a smattering of grey, his cell phone wedged beneath his ear and on top of his shoulder.

After a pause, Barry just _had_ to ask kind of incredulously, “Are you… are you making pancakes? And singing Carly Rae Jepsen?”

Snart smiled a little bit at the speedster’s sleepy expression, while flipping a pancake with one hand, and raised a hand gently in the universal symbol of _give me a second_.

Which.

_Well_.

It was definitely doing something for Barry; watching the guy he liked, all sleepy eyed and soft while making an exorbitant amount of food.

Seriously, at least seven of his fantasies began like this.

“Mick, I gotta go;  _do not set that on fire_ , for fuck's sake,” Len began and Barry could hear Heatwave on the other line grunting in response and Lisa whining about how he was no fun lately. “Good bye, tiny demon child. See you in a week.”

Barry started laughing and Len bit back a smile at how carefree the other man looked.

“Demon child, really?”

Len shrugged and went back to flipping pancakes for Barry, which amounted to the same quantity that would be needed to feed a large army or Gorilla Grodd, probably.

 

* * *

 

Barry promised to stay away from taking care of Central City after dark while he took his Safety Sabbatical, but all that energy had to go somewhere, right?

Not like that, get your mind out of the gutter.

One day it all boiled over and Barry got up and said, “fuck this.” 

“Language, kid,” Snart called over from the kitchen.

“Get wrecked, old man,” was the teasing reply before Barry plugged his phone into the speaker system.

Snart could be heard hollering, “Scarlet, it’s one am, I refuse to dance to Carly Rae Jepsen with you again.”

_Rude,_  Barry thought to himself before selecting a song he thought Len would enjoy.

As soon as the first chord struck, Len groaned and walked out, abandoning his reheated midnight pancakes and then straightening the Elsa blanket lying on the couch.

“You are the worst person ever in the history of the world,” he began before Barry grabbed his arm and twirled him, giggling a little bit as he tripped on his feet.

Len made a dismissive noise and retorted, “That is not how you dance, Scarlet,” before he dipped Barry carefully. “ _This_ is dancing.”

Barry keened in the back of his throat and the only thought going through his mind was _good bye forever, heterosexuality, it was nice knowing you._  

Snart looked like he knew what Barry was thinking and pressed his lips to Barry’s jaw as he lifted him up effortlessly.

“This was your idea, Barry,” he whispered and twirled the younger man around.

_I’m going to die from sexual frustration,_ the speedster thought,  _but what a way to go._

The pair waltzed in the living room, the only illumination being the light the phone gave off, and the accompaniment of the Frozen Soundtrack.

As Idina Menzel hit the high notes, so did their hearts.

 

* * *

 

The object of Len’s concern and affection stumbled in at 3 am, reeking of booze.

“Caitlin figured out Speedster Alcohol™  and Iris got me super drunk at her dad’s place,” Barry slurred as his hand came up, and Len instinctively flinched before he remembered who this was, for fuck’s sake.

This was Barry Allen, savior of the defenseless. This was Barry Allen, a human puppy. This was fucking Barry Allen, the probable love of Len’s miserable life.

Barry was definitely _not_ Lewis Snart, and so Len’s cold facade melted away. He reached out, caught Barry’s hand and gently brought him over to the sofa.

“C’mere,” Len said softly, like he was approaching a scared animal as Barry kept chattering.

“And then Joe was like, ‘ _Damn, Barry_ ,’ and—” and here the speedster lowered his voice in a weak imitation of his father, “and Iris was like, ‘ _Go home!’_ and then Joe said that I was already home and that Iris was bein’ silly—”

Barry’s voice became background noise as Len examined the younger man’s hands until Barry said, “except then I was like, ‘ _nuh uh, I’m not home because home is where the Frozen DVD is,’_ and you, sir,” Barry threw an arm out towards Len’s face and continued, “You are my home because you are a literal Frozen DVD, and then Joe’s face got all gross and Iris laughed so many and now I’m home! Ta da!” He finished very enthusiastically and started giggling even harder.

The words sunk into Len’s brain and his heart faltered for a second. _Barry thought that_ **_he_ ** _was home._ Not the place Barry grew up, or the lab he frequented, but Leonard Snart and the safe-house they were currently occupying.

Nope, his heart did not completely melt at that. Never in a million years.

(He may have smiled a little bit, though. After all, some people were worth melting for.)

 

* * *

 

“What year is it,” Barry slurred in the morning, pulling the covers above his head.

“2090. You’re dead and you wasted your time on earth.” 

Barry looked genuinely scared for a second until he woke up and glared at Len, who was rocking the whole shit-eating grin and carrying breakfast on a tray in a strangely domestic turn of events.

“I hate you,” he moaned like an overdramatic baby child.

Len huffed a laugh, and winked, “Guess I won’t give you ibuprofen and pancakes then.”

Barry cracked one eye open. “Is there whipped cream?”

“ _Of course_.” The other man looked almost offended.

“Gimme.”

“Magic words?”

“I think I love you.”

“Wh— what?” Len looked genuinely scared.

Suddenly, the Kill Bill sirens started going off in Barry’s head.

“I gotta… I gotta gay. Go! I gotta go. Anywhere but here right now. ‘Kay, cool, bye.” 

And with that, Barry sped off to the West house.

_I think I love you too,_ Len thought, before punching a wall.

The smiley face pancakes just stared back at him.

 

* * *

 

Iris and Barry may have their differences, but they’d always have C. C. Jitters as _their_ sacred place.

“Yeah, I’ll take a Flash, extra strong, and a Captain Cold with extra ice?” Iris requested with a smile. “Thanks, Ireland.”

The barista smiled and sent along well-wishes for Barry, who was crying in the back booth, promising to bring it by personally.

“Iris,” he began once his sister returned to the hidden away booth, “I told him I loved him.”

“Finally,” Iris groaned. “How much longer were you two going to dance around it?” 

“He doesn’t feel the same way,” her brother whispered.

Given that Iris had eyes and saw them interact together, she very much doubted it.

The beautiful young woman told him as much and he almost started bawling again.

Pretty boys crying always tugged at Iris’ heartstrings, and she softened her tone.

Her hand was rubbing over Barry’s in a way that made him feel decidedly safe as she inquired,“B, did you even let him answer?”

Barry opened his mouth and cut himself off when he saw a shadow approaching the table.

“Did somebody order a Flash?” The barista from earlier, Ireland, chimed in a strange edge to her voice.

Iris smiled, and she held out her arms for the tray, thanking the barista, “And a Captain Cold too, right? Thanks, you’re the best.”

“I know,” Ireland rolled her head around, ominous cracking noises hurting everyone’s ears. “I really am, aren’t I, _Flash?_ ” She turned to face where Barry was, only to find that the younger man had fled.

_Well,_ Iris mused, _that’s one way to get him back on his feet._

“In the beginning, Iris, I really did think it was a coincidence,” the meta monologues. “No matter where you go, the Flash follows like a puppy, desperate to save you. Barry does too. It wasn’t that hard to put two and two together.”

  
“You think Barry’s the Flash?” Iris’ voice was confused. Damn, she was an excellent actress. “He’s like a baby giraffe who can barely stand on his own.”

  
Ireland cackled. “You can’t fool me, I’ve been chasing him for months now—”

“Wait!” Iris faked a gasp. “You’re the one who’s been stalking Barry, aren’t you? Why would you do that, Ireland? I thought we were friends,” she frowned, brow crumpling dramatically.

Ireland straightened her posture and called out, “Do you know how little you get paid for barista-ing? Barely anything. I’ve got school to pay off, and I like hurting people. So when Leon hired me to take down the Flash, I accepted. Although, personally,” she lowered her voice, “Cisco’s more my speed.”

Iris was genuinely confused at this point, and it showed plain as day on her lovely face.

Thankfully, the loveable pain in the ass known as the Flash made himself known.

“Leon?” He asked, vocal cords reverberating even more fiercely than in normal Flash mode.

Ireland clapped her hands together in excitement, turning to face the Flash.

“You made it! So nice to see you in the flesh, again.”

“Uh, no, it’s not,” Barry emphasized. “Leave me and my fami— my friends alone.”

Ireland bit her lip, looking ridiculously adorable for someone who was pure evil.

“No can do, Flash. Gotta stick this out til Leon pays me.”

Barry brought himself up to his full, gawky height.

“You keep saying that name. Who is Leon?”

Ireland held her hands close to her heart, but closer to her gun.

“Oh, he is just the cutest. Short salt-and-pepper hair with a super distinctive hairline, fond of parkas, has this weird gun—” 

All of a sudden, Ireland began to convulse and fall to the ground before she could continue.

“Iris, did you just—”

“Do something you’re never gonna tell Dad about? Why, yes, Barry, I did,” his sister stared intently at him.

“You just shot someone!”

“Barry, you work at a police precinct. I really hope you can differentiate between tasers and bullet wounds,” Iris shrugged. “Besides, she’s just unconscious.”

Her friend still looked apprehensive (the tear track stains from before were hardly helping) and Iris sighed.

“You’re welcome for me saving your life. Now, are you gonna help me bring the body to S.T.A.R. Labs or not?”

 

* * *

 

About 3 minutes later, Cisco was gaping at Iris.

“You are such a badass. The shoes had me fooled but, _damn, Iris_ ,” he gushed. The girl in question huffed out a laugh and curtsied.

“Hardly. All I did was use a taser.”

“So. Cool,” Cisco reiterated and noticed as Barry’s face crumpled.

Cool.

Cold.

Captain Cold.

_Len._

Len, who Barry fell in love with.

Len, who apparently hired a meta to take him out.

Iris’ hand reached out for Barry’s and he gravitated towards her. She held him for a few moments before talking loud enough for Cisco to hear, “Go to him. You have to talk to him, Bear.”

Barry sighed dramatically.

“You heard the meta, didn’t you? He doesn’t want me; he tried to have me _killed_. I don’t wanna see that asshole’s pretty face.”

Iris sighed like a woman who had long-been plagued by Barry’s relationship problems since the disaster known as Becky Cooper.

“He looks at you like you hung the moon and turned it into a ice skating rink, Bear. There has to be a logical reason for this,” the reporter reasoned.

Cisco looked puzzled but backed Iris up on this.

“I can give you a ride?”

The speedster looked at Cisco oddly and replied, “You don’t have a car.”

The scientist sputtered, “It’s the thought that counts, Allen. Now, go get your man.”

Barry squeezed Iris’ hand and smooched Cisco on top of his head.

“Stock up on ice cream and alcohol, Iris.”

He could hear his sister’s laughter echoing in his ears as he sped home.

 

* * *

 

The conversation they had both dreaded all day was about to occur.

“So you caught the meta human, then?” Snart asked, hating himself for asking.

Barry made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.

“Yeah, uh, Iris tased her, which was pretty cool.”

Len almost huffed a laugh at the accidental pun before remembering he was upset with the cutie.

“Are we—  are we gonna talk about this morning, or…?”

Barry’s voice got all squeaky.

“Do we have to?” 

Len huffed a laugh.

“Uh, yes.”

The two just look each other in the eye until Barry’s resolve crumbled.

_Why would Len want someone like Barry? He was broken and awkward and not nearly attractive enough to keep up with the other, not to mention the job conflicts._

Barry did what he’d rarely done in the past: he lied. He lied like a fucking rug. 

He cleared his throat and hated himself as he whispered, “It was a mistake. I thought you were someone else.”

Snart’s face hardened.

_Oh._

Of course.

_Why would Barry want someone as old as Len, with a horrible past, and too much money and more issues than the Daily Planet—_

“Right,” Len whispered. “Right,” he repeated himself, louder.

He’d been so happy he forgot one crucial detail about the world he lived in: the bad guys didn’t get a love interest.

Bad guys didn’t get to be loved or dance at one am or marathon Frozen with cute boys or to hold someone’s hand.

“The great Flash is done playing house now, apparently,” he whispered to himself, but Barry caught it.

“Are you serious right now? This isn’t about me.”

Len laughed humorlessly. “Like hell it isn’t.” 

“No? You’ve made it clear that I’ve overstayed my welcome at Casa de Snart.”

Barry kept babbling, and, _fuck_ , how was Len supposed to take him seriously when he got like this?

“— And at least I haven’t killed anyone!” Barry’s rant culminated in a shriek, clearly overreacting.

_Oh._ That’s how.

The speedster immediately regretted the low blow almost immediately.

He regretted throwing that in the other man’s face, and he regretted the split second Snart’s face broke.

“Are we going to do this now, Flash?” To an outward observer, the underlying tone of hurt wouldn’t be noticeable under the drawl, but Barry noticed under the cool and collected facade.

Barry noticed, and, _goddammit_ , he was upset that he noticed. The speedster was upset that he had spent so much time around the other man to see this other side to Captain Cold, to be able to know his tells, to be falling hopelessly in lo—.

_Oh, shit._

_This morning wasn’t a fluke, was it?_

Len froze at the sudden silence between them, unsure what to do, not knowing the war going on in Barry’s mind at that moment.

“C’mon, Barry, make it easy,” he hurled at the other man. “Say I never mattered, that I was just a criminal for you to toy with and then throw away.”

The last thing Len saw was Barry looking fucking devastated before the speedster ran far, far away.

Everyone always did.

(As soon as Len triple checked that Barry wasn’t coming back, he let himself crumble while clutching some really powerful vodka he stole from Russia 1986, breaking about three of the rules he set for himself.

He was so heartbroken he didn’t even care.)

 

* * *

 

“Knock knock, asshole, it’s your conscience,” is what Len woke up to, along with the constant pounding in his head and on his door.

The older man cursed up a storm and hollered, “We don’t talk for a reason, shove a— ”

The door came down, crumbling into ashes.

_Fucking_ **_Mick_** _._

Lo and behold, there stood the two banes of Len’s existence.

(Well, not just these two. There was also Barry, who… was a whole other can of worms Len was not willing to discuss at 7 am with a ridiculous hangover.)

“Mornin’, Lenny!” Lisa chirps, like she _didn’t_ commandeer his best friend to destroy his property.

Captain Cold raised a single finger in acknowledgement and Lisa cackled, which was always a decidedly scary sound.

Scrubbing a hand over his face and crouching down to pick up a half-empty liquor bottle, Len at least pretended to stand his ground.

“I know you’re going to reimburse me for that damage, right?”

Mick snorted, proving that the solid wall of fiery aggression was, indeed, capable of laughing.

Who knew?

His younger sister rolled her eyes, and retorted, “It’s not yours, it belongs to— ” she turned to Mick and he finished for her, “Lincoln Scofield.”

Lisa turned lightly on her feet and poked her brother’s chest.

“This is Lincoln Scofield’s property, and I am not paying him a fucking cent until he explains why his life is in shambles.”

Len looked unimpressed and turned to his oldest friend.

“What the fuck is she on about?” he asked and got a brusque stare from Mick in return.

All 5’6” of his baby sister pulled herself up to her total height, both hands on her hips.

“I,” she emphasized, “am right here, Lenny. And I am here at the ass crack of dawn because you just _had_ to go and kick a puppy.”

“I don’t have a dog, Lis, you know about my track record with other lives,” he drawled, internally wincing at the reminder that he had, in fact, killed people; another reminder of a good point Barry made last night before he—

Mick got all up in his face and not-unkindly grabbed his friend by the chin.

“The kid, Snart.”

Len didn’t need any further clarification and uncharacteristically shrunk into himself and pouted.

Shit had, as they said, officially hit the fan.

Lisa let out an amused huff and reminded Mick that the Flash had a name.

Len stood very still and quietly, so quietly it was almost a threat, asked, “What happened to Barry?”

A plethora of terrible events raced through his mind; a metahuman gone bad, another crazy Earth-hopping megalomaniac, someone going rogue at the CCPD station…

Lisa sighed exasperatedly.

“You did,” the pyromaniac said gruffly, as he glared at Len with the intensity of at least 3 burning hot suns.

Snart stiffened and Lisa interjected, “You fucked up, bro. You fucked up so hard.”

“Lucky for you, snowflake, we can help fix this,” Mick began and smiled menacingly. “Remember the heist we never got to do?”

 

* * *

 

“Hello, detective. I’m here to perform my grand romantic gesture.”

West glared at him and blocked the entryway, letting in the crisp midday air but definitely not Len.

“You stay the hell away from Barry, you hear me?” Joe’s voice hardened and he jabbed a finger through the air towards Len.

_Really,_ Len thought sardonically. _It’s not like he had a choice other than to listen to the man almost screaming in front of him._

“You’re no good for him, Snart. You’re a criminal who’s as old as his father, and you made him— ” Joe cut himself off.

Len’s heart clenched and he cursed himself for whatever he put the speedster through.

The younger West popped between her father’s arm and the door.

“Dad,” she groaned. “He’s not that old. You’re Len, right?” The savvy young woman turned to face him, already knowing the answer.

West looked completely done. “He’s _Captain Cold_ , Iris, go inside.”

The girl made eye contact with Len, shrugged in a “what-can-you-do?” sort of way and squared up to her father.

“Dad, he’s wearing an Elsa wig; how much of a threat could he be?”

Len tugged at the braid, regretting all of his life decisions at that moment.

Iris continued, “The CCPD’s calling, they said it was urgent,” she sent her first distrustful look of the night at Len and carried on. “You should head out or something.”

Her father looked completely unimpressed, and he rose his hand.

Len instinctively flinched, a small gesture that caught both their eyes.

_Damn his tells,_ he thought. _Damn reporters with observant, old-soul eyes and damn detectives in general. But mostly? Damn Lewis Snart and all the shit he put Len and Lisa through._

Joe’s expression didn’t change, but he placed his hand on Iris’ cheek gently.

She smirked. “Dad, seriously, this is an emergency. If I were in cahoots with Cold, there would be a way better lie we’d use.”

_There was a compliment in there somewhere,_ Len mused.

Detective West pressed a soft kiss to his daughter’s forehead before glaring daggers at Len.

“Anything happens to any of my kids, I’ve got an entire arsenal at my disposal.”

And with that, West turned on his heels and stalked over to his car.

“Does he ever trust your judgement?” Len couldn’t help but ask.

Iris snorted gracefully, “Not really, no.” Her face sobered up a little bit and she continued, “You’re a dick, but Barry really likes you for some reason.”

“Thanks?” He wasn’t sure where this was going. 

Iris crossed her arms.

“If you hurt him again, I will not hesitate to tear you limb from limb.”

Len believed her.

“Apparently, there’s a line. But,” his voice got quieter and his face flushed, “I never want to hurt Barry.” _At least without his explicit consent._

Iris sighed for what seemed like an eternity.

“I know you’re an internationally wanted criminal and all, and probably a pathological liar, but I actually believe you, Snart.”

“Len,” he offered. “My name is Len.” He’d never offered it up that fast to a near-stranger, except Barry trusted Iris beyond words.

The speedster might be a giant puppy, but he generally had good instincts.

_Plus,_ Len noted,  _Iris had the same sort of energy as Barry, if not a little bit slower and a little bit hardened by the real world._

He snapped out of it once he saw perfectly manicured, mustard yellow nails in front of his face.

“Snart — shit, Len,” Iris pulled at the shoddily-made wig. “You said you were here for a grand, romantic gesture, right? Barry’s upstairs, c’mon in.”

 

* * *

 

Across town, another duo was bickering.

“You gave her your real number?” Mick reprimanded Lisa while firing off his heat gun.

“I—” Lisa kept stuttering. “Maybe? Why do you care?”

_“Because we’re in the middle of a heist and you’re checking your goddamn texts,”_ he rumbled while incinerating a sofa.

The two were at an ‘abandoned’ warehouse, where a really expensive painting and a bunch of diamonds were stashed by the Rathaways.

Lisa pouted and fluttered her eyes at Mick. It always worked on Lenny, okay?

“Mick. She’s _so_ cute.”

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” the older man muttered under his breath. “You owe me at least three drinks, Twinkle Toes,” he says, louder, before ushering her out of the building and setting the whole thing aflame.

It was right when Mick could see the faint lights of incoming cop cars when Lisa squealed.

“Mick, Mick, Mick! She texted me!”

Frankly, Mick wasn’t really upset. He was used to the Snarts’ and their ridiculous romantic pursuits. To have both his (he hesitantly called them friends) partners in crime to be enamored by the same species of tiny angry nerd?

It was kind of… ridiculous.

“Couldn’t have just gone and fallen for a nice girl at Saints and Sinners’, could ya, Twinkle Toes? Pretty sure that nonbinary kid was super into you.”

Lisa sent him a Look™ and snarked back, “They’re wanted for murder in seven states.”

Mick shrugged, not really seeing the issue. “So?”

Golden Glider just shook her head and furiously typed away at the tiny screen.

“Why can’t you just be happy for me, Mickey? I’d support you if the tables were turned!”

“I’m aeronautical or whatever. Plus, your girl wants us dead, probably.”

Lisa snorted. “You’re aromantic, Mickey, and _Caity_ ,” she emphasized the nickname, “wants you to heal your goddamn third-degree burns and to get into my pants, probably.”

The pained expression on Mick’s face almost made up for deliberately getting arrested.

True love, his ass.

 

* * *

 

Barry’s childhood room was small. There were some posters taped to the wall and a bunch of stuffed animals in the corner. One of the more recent additions was a mini Flash, stuffed and adorable, and watching Leonard Snart pull a John Hughes.

“I know I might be a thief, but, uh. You’ve stolen my heart. And I know you didn’t mean it earlier but… I wanted it to be real and if you don’t feel the same, I’ll fuck off, but I just.”

Barry's mouth fell ajar and his arm made a jerky movement towards the other man’s, wanting so desperately to reach out.

They were like binary planets, with their eyes constantly following each other and their bodies moving instinctively until they were nearly touching, just a hairsbreadth away from one another.

“ _Len_ ,” he exhaled, feeling as if someone just punched him in the gut and his healing force was nonexistent.

The other man was picking up steam, trying to get the words out.

“So, if there’s one thing you’ve taught me, Scarlet,” Len continued slowly and turned his face up to look Barry in the eyes, “It’s that some people are worth melting for.”

Barry giggled at the reference like the child he is, until the meaning of the sentence hit him.  He took a few steps forwards, slow even for a human, and he pulled off the terrible blonde wig Len was wearing.

Then he kissed Len.

_He kissed Len!_

It was awkward and painful and there was too much teeth in a non-sexy way.

They wouldn’t have it any other way.

The pair parted for air a moment later and rested their foreheads together.

“We’re gonna have to talk about this, Bear, and—”

“Yes, we do, definitely, but right now I want to go home with you in our comfy bed.”

“It’s technically Lisa’s—”

“You know damn well it isn’t, Len. Let’s go _home_ ,” Barry emphasized and the older man smiled a true smile, his whole face lighting up.

“Hold on tight,” was all Barry said before he scooped up Len and sped to their house.

 

* * *

 

The next morning at the break of dawn, it was actually Barry who woke up first, something that had never happened in all of human history.

He woke up curled against the back of a cute boy. A cute boy who liked him even more the morning after.

To be fair, they hadn’t fucked last night, or even “made love”. They talked through their issues and made out a lot. Maybe someone came in their pants, who knew? They didn’t kiss and tell.

Barry’s dextrous fingers absentmindedly traced the tattoos that covered the other man’s body and, with every swirl, Len felt himself get even weaker in the knees for this boy.

“You gotta go catch the bad guys like me,” he murmured, slowly waking up. The younger man grimaced adorably and quickly got changed before getting back under the covers.

Barry placed a light kiss on the prominent widow’s peak on the head of his boyfriend ( _his boyfriend!_ ) before he sped off to the CCPD station, reflecting on how this had became his life.

 

* * *

 

Later that day in S.T.A.R Labs, Caitlin and Lisa were off in a broom-closet. Mick grumbled under his breath as Cisco’s voice chirped, “You owe me $50, Sparky.”

“Nerd, _you_ owe _me_ money,” Mick emphasized. “I got fucking arrested for them.” 

“That’s your average Tuesday, Heatwave!” Cisco flailed his arms around before crossing them across his chest and continuing.

“Pay up. Some of us have legal employment! Which, granted, does not pay nearly as well as a life of crime, but—”

“Try again in English, Ponytail.”

“It’s fifty dollars! You keep more than that on you regularly!”

“ _Irrelevant_.” 

Cisco narrowed his eyes, and, before he fled to his lab, managed to get the last word.

“Fuck you, pay me.”

 

* * *

  

**fin**

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from frozen’s let it go, which i don’T EVEN LIKE BUT HERE WE ARE. cannot emphasize how much i dislike frozen. dammit, len
> 
> **edit (september 25th, 2016):** there's been a lot of discourse regarding whether len is actually mixed race like wentworth miller and uh?????? hell yeah leonard snart is also mixed??? there's literally no reason to ignore wm's background unless ur a racist??? anywaY
> 
> anyway if anyone’s interested in discussing the nuances of barry switching from cold/snart to len in this fic, or about wentworth miller's hands, or anything really, come talk to me on [tumblr](http://www.trans-cisco.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/hlfbloodprincex)! thanks for reading!! :^)


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